The Cold Finger of Fate
by Louise Hargadon
Summary: TAG2015. Sort of a missing-scene type oneshot from EOS. There is no way on earth that Gordon was doing anything close to sleeping in during that episode. Oh no. He had much bigger fish to fry that morning...


_**A/N:**_ _Now, don't get me wrong. I like the new_ _ **Thunderbirds Are Go**_ _series. You know, I may even go so far as to say I love it. I do. It's great. The action, the one-liners -_ _ **PARKER**_ _. I mean._ _ **Penny**_ _and_ _ **John**_ _sending selfies to each other._ _ **Grandma's**_ _cookies._ _ **Scott's**_ _continual facepalming. Just. What. What even. It is glorious._

 _But I tell you what I do not approve of. The almost complete erasure of my beloved Olympian Aquanaut,_ _ **Gordon Cooper Tracy**_ _. This is not cool, man. Don't make me fight you,_ _ **ITV**_ _\- because I will. But in the meantime I will write copious fanfiction about him until I get to see him do something more productive than giving_ _ **Virgil**_ _a high-five. Although admittedly that was adorable._

 _Dedicated with love to Mon Ammy,_ _ **Teebolicious**_ _. Because I love her. Read all of her new TAG stuff if you haven't, because I swear to God she is a frickin' genius._

 _ **Disclaimer: Thunderbirds** was created by **Gerry** and **Sylvia Anderson**. This new version was created by other people who aren't me (because if I'd created it then Gordon would have actually BEEN IN IT). It probably all belongs to ITV these days. I'm taking Gordon because clearly none of the show's creators can find a use for him. Well. I CAN! *grabs Gordon and hastily exits stage left*_

 **The Cold Finger of Fate**

"Gordon?"

Silence.

"GORDON!" Virgil shouted, hammering on Gordon's door. Nothing. Not even a grumbled expletive. Virgil frowned. This wasn't like Gordon at all. Normally, Gordon was up with the lark - or at least some other participant of the Dawn Chorus that was indigenous to the Pacific.

Virgil opened Gordon's bedroom door and poked his head round the corner. There was a Gordon-shaped lump covered by a duvet in the middle of the bed that didn't move. Virgil raised an eyebrow.

"You in there?" he asked, walking towards the lump and giving the middle of it a good hard prod with his forefinger. A weak groan came from beneath the covers and Virgil's face fell in concern. "Gords?" he said, quietly.

After a few moments there was some movement in the duvet cocoon and eventually a dark blond mop of hair poked out of the top of it. Gordon's eyes were red and tired, he looked pale and, if Virgil wasn't mistaken, he looked rough as a bear's... well. He definitely looked ill.

"You okay?" he asked. Gordon looked weakly at Virgil and shook his head with great effort.

"I feel like crap," he said in a croaky voice. He sniffed loudly, maybe a little dramatically, and groaned again. "I think I'm gonna stay in bed."

Virgil was now officially worried. In twenty-two years, Gordon had never decided that he would just stay in bed, not even if he did have a cold. Usually he made a point of getting up, sneezing and coughing theatrically, clutching his head in agony and complaining in a weak, croaky voice about how ill he felt. It always made him feel better.

"You want me to get Grandma?" he asked. Gordon's eyes widened.

"No! She'll force me to eat her homemade chicken soup! I'm a dying man, Virge, I can't take it, I don't have the strength! Tell her I'm sleeping in or something!" he begged. "Just... just leave me... here... alone. In my misery. And pestilence," he said, laying his head back down on the pillow and shading his eyes with his hand. Virgil rolled his eyes. How he had been bestowed with a reputation as the family drama queen, when Gordon couldn't even deal with having a sniffle without turning into Bette Davies, was beyond him.

"Well, at least you're taking it lying down. Make sure you take some aspirin," Virgil said, squeezing Gordon's shoulder comfortingly. "Feel better soon, buddy."

"Thanks, Virge," Gordon murmured, weakly. Virgil paused and looked at his little brother for a moment before turning around and heading out of the door.

Gordon listened intently as Virgil's footsteps became more and more distant. As soon as he was sure that Virgil was completely out of the picture, he opened one eye and looked conspiratorially around his empty room. An impish grin crept slowly across his face.

He had work to do.

His brothers were often simultaneously amazed and unnerved by Gordon's ability to move around without making any noise whatsoever. This natural skill had initially proved extremely useful for missions with the WASPs, and other secular purposes he had never really spoken about to anyone else. However, after joining the rest of the family on the Island, he discovered that his stealth skills were also a boon for minor pranks, such as creeping up behind Grandma and scaring her into dropping an entire batch of freshly-baked cookies all over the floor to their doom. His brothers were especially grateful for his skills in that particular area. He often wished that he had red hair so that he could call himself The Ginger Ninja and form some sort of Dynamic Duo partnership with Parker, The Grey Ninja - but he decided that that particular shade of red definitely suited John best. Besides, it wasn't too long ago that he had been an Olympic champion so he still considered himself as having the body of an Adonis, and everyone knew that Adonises - or was it Adoni - were _always_ blond.

He slid out of bed quietly. He was, of course, already fully clothed to save time. Slowly and carefully - but not quite gingerly - he opened his wardrobe where the tools of his planned mischief were hidden. Stuffing what he could in his pockets, he clutched the most important part of his prank to his chest and headed for the door. Knowing that it would be far too risky to actually open the door to check whether or not the coast was clear, he reached into his pocket and dug out the wire of his spy camera. Delicately, one painstaking millimetre at a time, he checked the monitor on his watch as he angled the camera into the corridor. Nobody in sight. He held his breath and listened closely. All the activity he could hear was muffled and seemed to be emanating from the lounge. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and, keeping close to the wall furthest from the lounge, he made his way as fast as he could to Thunderbird Three's silo.

Meanwhile, Scott was worrying about the fact that for some reason, there had been no rescue calls whatsoever that day. Alan was delighted, however, at the prospect of having a whole day ahead of him to spend however he chose. Virgil had, by this time, already foreseen Scott and Alan's fate and had decided to make himself scarce. Moments after he had disappeared to carry out some "maintenance on Thunderbird Two," which was probably Virgil Code for sitting by the pool with a long, cool drink in his hand, Grandma had appeared with a list of chores to keep Scott, Alan and even Brains and MAX busy.

An hour or so later, Gordon came back into the lounge, pandemonium was just in the process of breaking out. Virgil had, by this time, returned to the lounge and looked up at Gordon in thinly-veiled surprise as his younger brother bounded into the room.

"You okay, buddy?" he asked quietly. Gordon nodded.

"Great, never better," he said with a grin. Virgil frowned.

"Your flu sure cleared up fast," he said, suspiciously. Gordon shrugged.

"Sleep's where the magic happens," he said with a wink. Virgil blinked twice before shaking his head dismissively. There were bigger issues going on than Gordon's general health at that moment.

"I just hope that's not your best pick-up line," he said with a weary sigh. "John's in trouble," he added, not much louder than a whisper as Grandma, Scott, Alan and Brains were all discussing the proposed rescues among themselves.

"Yeah?" Gordon asked, frowning. "What happened?" he asked, also dropping his voice to just above a whisper.

"Some AI software he made flipped out and locked him out of 'Five," Virgil explained. Gordon's eyes widened.

"Being locked out in space isn't good," he said, quite unnecessarily. Virgil shook his head.

"No, and neither's the fact that the AI blocked all our rescue calls so we've got a backlog to get through," he said. "Alan's going to get John now."

"Alan?" Gordon repeated, his eyes gleaming. Virgil looked at him.

"What did you do?" he asked. Gordon looked up at his brother in feigned indignation, his big brown eyes the picture of innocence itself. "Don't give me The Face, what did you do?"

"Virgil, you grab Gordon and go," Scott shouted, interrupting their hushed conversation. Virgil and Gordon looked up.

"Don't grab me, Virge, people will talk," Gordon insisted, raising his hands defensively as he headed to the service elevator to Thunderbird Two. "Fly safe, Al," he called over his shoulder, smirking to himself.

Gordon sat patiently in the co-pilot seat of Thunderbird 2 and waited for Virgil to arrive. Within a few minutes they had gone through the launch sequence and were on their way to their scheduled rescue site. He was so quiet that Virgil felt the heavy weight of Gordon's silence.

"What is it?" he asked. Gordon grinned.

"You tied in to Alan's comms?" he asked. Virgil shook his head. "You might wanna tune in," he said. "Turns out that this is probably the most poorly-timed stunt I've ever pulled, and Dad would have my hide if he were here," he added with a hint of pride in his voice.

"Seriously, what did you _do_?" Virgil demanded. Gordon shook his head, trying so hard to contain a giggle that he was sure his face was going to split in two.

"Everything all right with you, Thunderbird Three?" Virgil asked, cautiously. He had visions of Alan's chair exploding underneath him and him having to stand to pilot 'Three with no chair and the ass blown out of his pants. There was silence at the other end. "Thunderbird Three, can you hear me?" he demanded, feeling a little panicky. Surely Gordon wouldn't have done anything that would actually put his brother's life in danger?

"Thun-AAAHHHH!" Alan's high-pitched squeal was almost enough to burst Virgil's ear drums. Gordon roared with laughter at his little brother's reaction. "GORDON!" Alan yelled, furiously. Gordon laughed so hard that tears rolled down his face and he had to hold his sides.

"What's happened, Alan?" Virgil demanded, completely confused at this point.

"Gordon, I'm gonna kill you for this!" Alan shouted. His empty threat only served to make Gordon laugh even harder. His laughter was now silent and he stamped his feet on the floor of Thunderbird Two as he tried desperately to get his breath back.

"Gordon, what did you DO?" Scott's authoritative voice boomed over the communicator. This didn't seem to calm Gordon down at all, if anything his laughter increased. If he hadn't been strapped into his seat then he would have been rolling on the floor in hysterical fits of silent laughter.

"There's pink guck all over me!" Alan moaned, wiping the gunk from his eyes.

"Guck? Is that a technical term?" Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow. Gordon was still crying with laughter at the vision he had created in his mind of exactly Alan's facial reaction.

"I put...!" Gordon began, when his laughter had finally been reduced to fitful giggles. "Pink...pink custard...!" he chortled. At those words, a smile dimpled Virgil's cheeks. "...In the... in the comms switch!" Gordon continued. Virgil let out a snort of laughter. "When he opened comms..." Gordon couldn't speak any more, the giggles once again overtook him.

"I got pink guck all over me!" Alan moaned. Virgil and Gordon howled with laughter in response. "Scott!" Alan complained. Scott cleared his throat and tried not to chuckle.

"Gordon, that was very irresponsible. We're meant to be professionals, guys," he said, sternly. Gordon gulped down a few deep breaths to try and calm down.

"Sorry, Scott. Sorry, Al," Gordon answered.

"We'll discuss this back at Base," Scott replied, trying to sound threatening but unable to disguise the crack of laughter in his voice. "Alan, just make sure you get John back safe. You two know what you gotta do," he said. Sometimes he wasn't sure if he was a brother, parent or full-time carer for his younger siblings. "And Alan?"

"Yeah?" Alan asked, sullenly. Scott, Virgil and Gordon could literally hear his pout.

"Y'know - I bet you'd go great with a rhubarb crumble right about now," Scott said, seriously. He grinned to himself as he heard Virgil and Gordon roar with laughter again. "Out," he finished, switching off communications.

Scott couldn't help but let out a deep, throaty chuckle to himself. In so many ways, Gordon's prank couldn't have come at a worse time. But in so many other ways, it was the exact thing they needed, to shake them up, to make them concentrate, to keep them on their toes. With everything that had happened with The Hood over the past few weeks, Scott had a nasty feeling that International Rescue would need that constant sense of vigilance more and more in the weeks to come.

 _'Typical Gordon,'_ Scott thought, shaking his head and smiling fondly at the thought of his penultimate brother. _'I swear to God, Dad didn't even start going grey till after he came along!'_

Suddenly, Scott got an image in his head of a myriad ineffectual attempts at a revenge prank Alan might make and, despite himself, let out a belly-laugh so violent that Thunderbird One momentarily launched itself off-course...

 **THE END**


End file.
